The Tartarus Directive

Chapter 15

It took some time for the group to return to the opening in the belly of the ship to make the journey back. They stepped out into the blinding light and began their descent to the crater floor. Nearing the bottom, the sudden, thundering zoom of shuttlecraft engines resonated in the rocky bowl. The two shuttles that flew overhead were not marked with the iconography of well-maintained Atlas crafts, but were battered and dirty, undoubtedly belonging to Mavros' cohort. The two craft set themselves down clumsily in the loose dirt but kept their engines running.

The entry ramps at the rear of the crafts descended and a number of Mavros' renegades, armed and in exosuits, emerged with intent. Griff recognized one of the approaching renegades from the outpost as a higher-up.

"They're attacking the outpost!" the man said frantically to Mavros. "They-"

Before the man could finish, another shuttlecraft--one clearly belonging to the ship's security forces--zoomed overhead and landed with great speed and precision away from the rebels on the other side of the ruined habitation modules.

Mavros' lead man pled with him to board the shuttle and escape. Mavros said nothing and stood resolute, facing down the central avenue of the ruined village at his enemy. When it had become clear to Mavros' man what his leader had decided--to stand and fight--the rebels scampered into the village and took up firing positions behind cover.

Out the rear of the security forces' shuttlecraft emerged a squad of men in heavy polymer body armor. These juggernauts lumbered forward at an intimidating pace, holding massive gyrojet carbines at the hip.

Griff and Harry sought cover as far behind Mavros' front line as they could, but Mavros did not do the same. Unarmed and seemingly unafraid, he stared down his opponents, unmoving. It was abundantly clear that death was something that Mavros had embraced. His men, however, did not seem to share that opinion.

The first shot was most probably fired by one of Mavros' men. The distinct pop and hiss of a pneumatic carbine could only have come from one of the overwhelmed rebels. This crude round struck the armor of one of the security officers and pinged off unceremoniously. The other rebels followed the instigator's suit and opened fire unrelentingly on the armored men. Even the rocket rounds from their makeshift gyrojets did little but scuff the engineered polymer armor of the approaching combatants.

There was a strange silence after the rebels' initial volley had ceased. The rebels' shots had stirred up dust in such a way that obscured their targets. The dust cloud drifted slowly across the battlefield and dissipated. Though Griff could not see the rebels' faces when they saw their enemy standing upright, untouched by their volley, he knew they wore a look of terror and utter defeat. Still, they could not fail their leader. Retreat was never an option.

In the mere instant it took the rebels to comprehend the astronomical mistake they had made, the security forces had locked their magazines into place with audible clicks, cocked their weapons, and flipped off the safeties. It took only another instant for the security forces to open fire.

Rocket rounds whooshed and fizzled toward the rebels, the heat from the rockets igniting traces of flammable gases in the air along the projectiles' path leaving sparkling trails in their wake.

Accuracy was not paramount to the security forces. Their inability to look down the heavy carbines' sights due to their clumsy armor was more than accounted for by the sheer volume of fire they sent at the rebels. They inched forward while their unrelenting firestorm of lead peppered the rebel positions.

Griff and Harry, unarmed and perhaps unrecognized by the security forces, kept their heads down without doing as much as peeking to see the one-sided battle rage on.